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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444524">Strike Two</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton'>ClaraxBarton</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>AU Alphabet [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baseball, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, M/M, winterhawk - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:27:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the off season, and Bucky isn't thinking about baseball. </p><p> </p><p>This will make almost no sense if you haven't read Strike One.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>AU Alphabet [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>233</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Strike Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Beta read by the amazing Ro!!!</p><p>For Bennyhawk!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s the off-season, and Bucky is back home, his childhood home, in Brooklyn, and he’s getting dinner with Steve Rogers, the punk who has somehow been his best friend for nearly thirty years despite Steve’s best attempts to get them both killed doing some truly stupid shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky is back home, and it’s December and it’s cold, and he and Steve are at the dive pizza place they’ve been going to ever since they were ten, and Alex, who took over the place after his father retired six years ago, has the television turned to Sports Center.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it’s not like Bucky pays </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> attention because the intro-teaser to the next segment featured a photo of Clint Barton.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s the off-season, and this is the time when trades are made, and he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>happens</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know that Clint Barton’s contract is up - happens to know that the Yankees had happily let Clint Barton carry them to a World Series victory two months ago but, when Clint had come out as gay on a sports radio interview in November, the Yankees had sure as fuck been silent about their plans for their ace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, Bucky isn’t interested in Clint Barton, per se. He just… knows what’s going on and, as a very gay man himself, has a… somewhat vested interest in wondering why Major League Baseball’s only out active player is about to be featured on Sports Center.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Steve, because Steve is a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>asshole</span>
  </em>
  <span>, notices Bucky’s attention waver from their fight over the last slice of pie and switch to the TV.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Alex,” Steve calls out, “turn up the volume, will you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky does spare a glare for Steve, but he also spares a silent thank you that Steve is an asshole but not enough of an asshole to have asked Alex to do something like change the channel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, instead, Steve just smirks and turns in his seat so he too can watch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...announced just two hours ago. Bill, what do you think of this move?” One of the commentators is saying when Bucky is able to hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Joe, it’s completely unexpected, to be honest. Barton has made it pretty clear that he wanted to stay in New York =-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Too bad the fucking Yankees are homophobic dick bags,” Steve muttered, and Bucky nodded in agreement, while also silently telling Steve to shut the fuck up and stop talking over the TV.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-and you know he had better offers on the table than this one. Frankly, a three-year, thirty-million dollar deal is a huge step down for a guy who made twenty-five million last year alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky frowned, because he wasn’t an idiot, and it was clear that Clint Barton had apparently signed a contract with some team - some team that was getting him at a steal, if those numbers were true, and there was no way in hell there weren’t better offers out there. Vocally out or not, Clint Barton had been a top contender for the Cy Young award, had won the Golden Glove and, it could not be stated enough in Bucky’s mind, </span>
  <em>
    <span>carried the Yankees to a World Series victory</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But they weren’t saying - or at least, weren’t repeating - </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> Clint had signed on with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then the graphic changed - from Clint in Yankees pinstripes, with his lopsided smirk and piercing too-blue eyes, to…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy fucking shit!” Steve shouted, jumping to his feet and staring at the TV.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky, meanwhile, could only sit and stare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because the graphic now showed Clint in the pristine white and red piping and bright, bold </span>
  <em>
    <span>B</span>
  </em>
  <span> on a navy hat of the Boston Red Sox.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fucking shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bucky thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fucking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clint Barton, his rival since freshman year of college, for the entire season they had both played in the minors, for the three years they had both played in the majors, was now going to be Bucky’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>teammate</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve looked at Bucky, eyes as wild as Bucky’s own no doubt were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fucking - </span>
  <em>
    <span>call him</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Steve yelled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky stared at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Call your boyfriend,” Steve said, annunciating each word carefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s not my boyfriend,” Bucky sputtered, because, come on, Steve knew that. Steve understood that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Steve just arched an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t, I will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You - how the fuck do you have his phone number?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve just gave Bucky a look. The same kind of look Steve had given him whenever Bucky suggested buying anything that wasn’t Fair Trade Certified.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been fucking the guy for a decade. You send each other Christmas and Hanukkah gifts, and four years ago, he tracked me down to ask what to give you for your birthday. We’ve been friends ever since.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And… somehow managed to keep Bucky from even realizing that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What the fuck?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s not my boyfriend,” Bucky had to repeat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve snorted a laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If it was my </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Bucky sneered, “wouldn’t I already know he signed with the Red Sox instead of having to hear about it on Sports Center?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve shrugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never said you weren’t both idiots.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky glared, but Steve just lifted up that last slice of pizza and shoveled it into his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Call him,” Steve repeated, mouth full and face totally gross.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky stared at his phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Went so far as to look at the running text thread he had with Clint. The last text had been three days ago, from Clint, who was at home in Iowa - who the fuck lived in Iowa? - and was riding a horse in the snow. Which was apparently a thing people did in Iowa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A thing people did while wearing cowboy hats and being teased by their friend/ranch hand/not girlfriend named Kate Bishop, who got to be there and see Clint up close and personal while he was wearing a cowboy hat and riding a horse and wearing cowboy boots. While Bucky only got to see it via text.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky realized, abruptly, that he hadn’t responded to Clint’s text, to that photo that had given him, quite frankly, too much masturbatory material in the interim.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky licked his lips and let his fingers hover over his phone screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve very loudly continued to chew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boston?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bucky texted and put his phone down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time zones were different - who knew what Clint was up to, or even where he was, or-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s phone vibrated with an incoming text, and Steve smirked, and Bucky absolutely didn’t blush as he picked up the phone to look at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Boston. Coming up next week to look for an apartment. Know any good realtors?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s brain was dumb. So very, very fucking dumb. Probably due to Bucky’s current proximity to Steve. Bucky was never this dumb when he wasn’t around Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No. But I know someone looking for a roommate.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sent the text before he could even take in a breath, before he could think about it, before he could tell himself what a terrible fucking idea it was and-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I’ll do the dishes if you walk the dog.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s heart did some kind of weird stutter-step, and he must have made a sound because Steve looked up with a frown.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay?” Steve asked, expression already shifting into his </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to pick a fight and kick someone’s ass so hard</span>
  </em>
  <span> face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky nodded, quickly and a little too enthusiastically - he did not need Steve going on the attack, did not need Steve thinking Clint had done something wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Especially not since…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky licked his lips and set the phone down, looked up and met Steve’s concerned gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, I think my boyfriend is going to move in with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-o-</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
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